A Cold December Night
by Paper Mantis
Summary: We all know of Russia's winters: cold and snowy. But what happens when him and his special someone are snowed in? A short story on the account. (Russia X OC).


A Cold December Night

Far off from civilization a lone, small log cabin buried in snow sat. Russian winters made traveling impossible; roads around the area blocked due to snow drifts. However, this wasn't an abandoned house; smoke curled out of the chimney.

If you looked in a window, you would find all the lights off, except a heavenly glow from miniature candles and a cozy fire. Sitting on a pile of blankets and pillows was a woman warming her hands by the fire. No sooner had she begun, a tall, towering figuring entered the room. The woman smiled gratefully, taking a mug from its hands. The figure, a man, sat next to the woman, sipping her drink happily. They both stared into the warm, welcoming fireplace. The snowy night was heaven for these two kindred souls.

Finished with her tea, she sat the mug down with a clunk on the hardwood floor. Even though she was sitting by a fire, shivers racked her body. She pulled her legs close to her chest to conserve heat. She wasn't wearing skimpy pajamas, but rather a purple, fleece nightgown with lace trimmings, expressing her soft curves.

The man glanced over at the shivering woman. Acting on instinct, he pulled her into his warm, comforting arms. She still hadn't adjusted to General Winter's weather. He gazed at the small pile of wood beside the fireplace. A quick trip the woodpile outside would fix this problem.

"We don't have enough wood in here for the night. I'll go to the woodpile."

She whipped her head around, facing him. "It's brutal outside, Ivan. You'll get frostbite."

He chuckled. "Don't worry, Emmi. I'm Russian; I'm accustomed to this weather."

"Please don't go," she said, her bottom lip quivering. She hated aloneness.

How could he have been so foolish; leaving his fiancé alone? "Fine, любимая. Besides, our body heat will keep us warm throughout the night."

A childish, playful smirk spread across his face. Emmi looked at him warily, unsure of what would happen next. Ivan made his move. He lightly tossed Emmi onto a pile of blankets and began tickling her. She instantly began to laugh, only fueling his playful nature more. Ivan was grinning from ear to ear.

"I-Ivan, p-please stop," she said, squirming around on the blankets, trying to dodge his hands. Tears from excessive laughter formed at her honeyed-brown eyes. "I-I c-can't take it!"

He stopped tickling her. "I guess that's enough torture for now," he said, smiling innocently.

Emmi quickly sat up and shoved him playfully. "That's uncalled for. You're bigger than me. I had no chance of escape."

Ivan smirked, grabbing her cold hands into his warm ones. "Maybe that was the point, подсолнух. His large, calloused fingers intertwined with her small, slender ones.

Emmi gazed off into the distance, as if trying to remember something. Her pupils expanded. "I-Ivan?"

"Da?"

"я тебя люблю," she said hesitantly.

Oh how he loved it when she spoke his mother tongue! She was still shaky on the pronunciation but none the less, music to his ears. Her words sparked an uncontrollable fire inside him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. "Da. я тоже," he said seductively. Cupping her cheek, he dove in for a passionate kiss.

She inhaled sharply, surprised by his sudden change in demeanor. His lips were soft and tasted of vodka. Emmi wrapped her arms around Ivan's neck, increasing the passion and lessening the space. He wrapped his arms around her waist, making her squeal and him smirk. Ivan broke away, opening his arms wide.

"Come to me, my sweet," he said, grinning.

Emmi dove into his chest, welcomed by the smell of sweets and vodka. He was drinking again, she thought. They fell onto a heap of blankets, almost knocking over the mug from earlier. The two cuddled, kissing each other's cheeks, noses, and foreheads until they grew tired of the act.

"You're sleepy, da?"

She nodded.

"Sleep then. Face me, so I can watch you."

"Ivan…will you sing to me?"

"Of course, любимая." He quietly sang an old lullaby, serenading her.

Her eyes closed, nuzzling into his sweater. Within minutes her breathing slowed. Tendrils of brown hair splayed across her peaceful face. She was in deep slumber.

Ivan smiled. He was the luckiest man alive: he had a house, money, and a beautiful woman to call his own. For so long he had lived in solitude, drunk and alone. But now he had her; someone who melted his cold, frosted-over heart. She showed him love and kindness, and it was his goal to return the favor.

He kissed her on the lips. "The day you become one with Mother Russia is close. But for now, sleep well, мой дорогой."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Firstly, I'd like to give you the translations to the Russian words above.

- любимая = darling

- подсолнух = sunflower

- я тебя люблю = I love you

- я тоже = Same here

- мой дорогой = my dear

Originally this was a New Year's Eve fanfiction, but it didn't turn out well. So, I went with the classic snowed-in mushy love story. I was going to upload it tomorrow (Friday), but since it's snowing now (yay!) the timing couldn't be more perfect. Over winter break I rewatched Hetalia, rekindling my love for it. Russia is like a big, cuddly teddy bear that you just want to hug all day long. Comments and favorites are always appreciated! (:


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